Watermeloncholy
by panpanpeppermint
Summary: Short drabble.  Soap/Gaz


"_Nice! Your fruit killing skills are remarkable" _said Gaz as he taught the FNG how to use his knife on a watermelon.

"T-T-Thanks." stuttered the scrawny FNG. "Name's Soap."

"Name's Gaz." Gaz said in return.

"You really like watermelons," noted Soap. He pointed towards the discarded watermelon rinds.

"Bloody hell, of course I do!" remarked Gaz sheepishly.

"Mind if I have some?" asked Soap in a polite tone.

"Course not," Gaz handed Soap a watermelon slice.

"Thanks." said Soap. He smiled warmly at Gaz. Gaz couldn't help but look in Soap's intriguing green eyes. They weren't green as emeralds, instead, they were soft and light like watermelon rinds.

"Um, what's wrong Gaz?" inquired Soap. Soap stared back into Gaz's eyes, not in admiration but curiosity.

"Oh, uh, your eyes are… interesting. I find myself drawn to them." He admitted. He smiled sheepishly. "No homo." Gaz joked. His lips were pulled into a devilish smirk.

Soap wiped the watermelon juice flowing from his mouth. "Uh huh, right." Soap said nonchalantly. "I suppose we'd have an osculation at this point."

"Osculation, you mean kiss, right?" chuckled Gaz.

"Of course, numpty!" Soap winked. Gaz nudged his elbow. Soap shot a playful bitter look.

The two were laughing so hard that tears were forming in the corner of their eyes.

"Good shit, Soap. Good shit."

"Um, me or the watermelons?"

"Both." Gaz playfully punched Soap's shoulder. That was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

* * *

><p>Soap's iPod was mostly filled with rock. Rock of all kinds, alternative, metal, classic… However Soap did have some <em>questionable <em>content in his iPod.

Like _The Pussycat Dolls, Lady Gaga, Ke$ha_… the list goes on and on. Even worse, Soap liked to sing them out loud. In his drunken Glasgow accent. Gaz turned up the volume on his iPod attempting to ignore Soap. Unfortunately, Soap's loud voice found its way into Gaz's ears.

"SOAP, PLEASE SHUT UP, GOD DAMN IT." He finally spoke.

"Okay, okay, gosh Gaz, aren't you a wee party-pooper." Soap teased. His green eyes twinkled with mischievousness.

"Right, Soap, as if your singing wasn't bloody horrible enough." Replied Gaz. The two were in the gym on the treadmills.

Gaz sighed in relief, Soap didn't continue singing. If he continued, Gaz would be the only victim of his treacherous singing.

Soap and Gaz laid on the hood of a jeep. The two were looking at the boundless night sky. Watching the twinkle of the billions of stars that lay in space. At a deserted place like an SAS camp, you could see the stars.

"Soap?"

"Yeah?"

"Got a lighter"

"Aye." Instead of tossing Gaz a lighter, Soap lit his fag first, then lit Gaz's fag with his fag.

"…Soap…"

"There's just so much homosexual subtext between us." Soap joked.

* * *

><p><em>Good news first: the world's in great shape. We've got a civil war in Russia, government loyalists against Ultranationalist rebels, and 15,000 nukes at stake.<em>

Soap opened his heavy eyelids.

The loyalist forces helping them weren't there.

Griggs rushed over to his side. He tried to protect the injured Soap. Soap couldn't see what Griggs was shooting at. His vision was blurry. He heard the muffled sounds of gunfire and his own tired breath.

Griggs fell over dead. Soap tried to scream but he couldn't get a word out.

With all his strength, he turned to his left. Captain Price was injured too.

Soap looked forward. Zakheav was heading towards him followed by two bodyguards behind him.

Gaz laid right in front of them. He was still alive.

"Gaz!" Soap dryly chocked out.

"S-S-Soap?"

"Lo-" Soap was going to warn him about Zakheav but something held him back from that.

With his heavy heart and tired head, Soap cried "I love you Gaz!" It wasn't random but it was desperate. And it was true. Not buddy love but with _love_.

"I- I-" Gaz began to say. His eyebrows were knitted together. Gaz was interrupted by a loud _bang_. He never finished his sentence

A pink mist appeared for a second behind Gaz's head. It exploded. _Like a fucking watermelon._ Gaz collapsed. Dead. He was dead. Soap bit his lip, he didn't have the energy or strength to cry_. Grown men do not cry_.

Zakheav's eyes gleamed with pure evil. That's how Soap saw it. The bodyguards by Zakheav's side killed the two other remaining SAS commandos. It was down to Soap and Price.

The Mi-24 helicopter behind Zakheav exploded. In the moment of distraction, Price slid his M1911 pistol to Soap.

Soap gripped the pistol. He was mad at everything.

Mad at the Ultranationalist party, the nuke, and Zakheav. Especially Zakheav.

His right hand shook as he aimed. His fingers pulled the trigger. These bullets would mean everything.

Two shots, the body guards were dead. One left, Zakheav.

Soap fired. Zakheav was dead.

Soap passed out. He was content, just not content enough. 30,000 casualties could never ever be replaced. That hole in his heart could never ever be mended.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Maybe I'll write a sequel. This was just a short silly drabble.<strong>


End file.
